A mysterious envelope was slid under my door in the barely lit hours of the morning.  I saw it out of the corner of my eye and I ran to see who left it but the elusive purveyor had already slipped out of sight.  When I opened the envelope I found this:

“You never know what you’ll find when you turn out the lights

A secret rendezvous of the “road less travelled” persuasion 

Midnight at the umbrella factory”

I have to take candles…and the mask!  I instantly recognized the handwriting…Dear I <3 NYBoy, what kind of mischief do you have up your oh-so-vintage-and-lovely sleeve?

Midnight didn’t come too quickly. The day seemed to linger on and on. Time is funny that way—it can drag its heels in the dirt or sprint like hell and it always seems to do the exact opposite of what you want it to.

But when 11:30pm acquiesced, I carefully picked a candle and set to the street… eagerly and curiously moving towards that dodgy old umbrella factory. The closer I got the more people I saw carrying unlit candles…. We stole glances at each other as if part of some secret society. Why were we all here? And what was the meaning of this midnight tryst?

There was a flaming torch outside the steps of the factory accompanied with a sign offering simple instructions:

“Light your candle. Climb the stairs. Third floor.”

I put the wick to the flame and trudged up the staircase.  Floor 1. Floor 2. Floor 3.  The whole place was alight with flickering flames… Hundreds of tea lights multiplied against the tall, shattered windows and shadowy faces were glowing under musky, high ceilings. 

I had heard of this before: a dark party. A late night mingling sensa electricity… So I shouldn’t have been surprised when I noticed a drum circle pick up in the center of the room. Barely visible hands giving life to a rhythm… and everybody in the building starting to dance. I floated through the small crowd to get a better view of the musicians. One of the drummers had an all-too familiar face. 

I <3 NY boy, you have outdone yourself…